Page 5 of Bad Medicine
“Elliott, please.”
“Right. Elliott.”
“I was wondering if I might take you to dinner tonight.”
“I work the early shift tomorrow,” I answered, hating that he was doing this again.
Publicly.
I could see Donna sitting beside us, doing her absolute best to pretend to not be listening, but I knew she was. Within the next thirty minutes, this little interaction would be spread through every department in the hospital; gossip moved through this place like wildfire.
“Lunch, then.” It wasn’t a question, but a demand.
“Thank you,” I attempted a smile, but it felt weak at best. “But this really isn’t a good time.” I just wanted to get home, have a shower, and enjoy some quality time with Jasper.
“You know, Mia,” he said, his condescending tone making my cheeks heat and my women’s intuition prickle to awareness. “I’ve been asking you out for a while. I’m starting to think you’re not interested.”
No shit, Sherlock.
“I’m flattered, truly,” I said, even though I was actually just pissed off. “But I just don’t have time to entertain any kind of a relationship right now.”
“Sex isn’t exactly a relationship, Mia.”
“It’s the worst kind of relationship, Dr. Edwards.”
Donna snorted at her desk, then tried to cover it with a fake cough, and I shook my head. “Have a good day.”
Heading back to the locker room, I bypassed changing into my regular clothes and simply shoved my wallet in my pocket, grabbed my hoodie, and booked it out of there. The less time I spent lingering around the locker room, the less opportunity Elliott would have to corner me again.
Zipping the hoodie up to my neck, I tried to keep my eyes on the ground as I left the hospital. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation.
With anyone.
It was no secret that I wasn’t very sociable. I had officially been employed as a doctor for less than a year, and things hadn’t gotten any easier. Between the challenges of the job, the commute, the demands of the patients, and the rest of my freaking life, it was a wonder I had anything left at the end of the day. Going out with the girls—as if I would even know what to talk to them about—or dating a full-of-himself plastic surgeon was so far down my list of priorities, it was laughable.
Everything I had, I saved for Jasper. He was the only person who mattered.
But I got so tired of making up believable excuses that it was just easier to avoid the conversation altogether.
I had just dropped my butt onto the bench at the bus stop when I heard my name being called again.
“Mia Carmichael?”
I jumped, surprised to see a woman with dark hair standing beside me, a pleasant smile on her face. A young man stood behind her, large and looming and silent.
“Yes?”
“Dr. Carmichael, my name is Francesca. I was wondering if we could talk.”
I sighed. I hated this part of the job.
“Any complaints must be reported directly to hospital administration by your legal council,” I replied, turning back around. We had been given very strict instructions in our on-boarding orientation. Do not engage.
“No, Dr. Carmichael, I don’t have a complaint. As I said, my name is Francesca—Frankie, if you like—and I was actually wondering if you’d like to get coffee with me. I have a proposal I’d like to discuss with you.”
Oh, no. This was even worse. This woman thought she could get something out of me. Usually, people approached me for free medical advice. Maybe they had a sick kid and no health insurance—although, this woman was not dressed like someone who needed black market medicine—or maybe they had a phobia of hospitals. Either way, I was not having it.
“Sorry, Frankie, but I’ve had a long shift. I need to get home to try and get some sleep before I come back here tomorrow and do it all over again. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll just go back to waiting for my bus.”
